Hunter
by blackrose4568
Summary: Elena Gilbert is a seemingly normal girl with one very big jack-the-ripper-like secret... What happens when she comes across a vampire Damon, and decides he's her newest prey? Will the hunter become the hunted? RATED M FOR A REASON, IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK DAMON/ELENA THIS IS NOT A STORY FOR YOU. I own none of the characters.
1. Sweet Memories

The brisk November air whipped my auburn hair into a frenzy around my face. I shiver, not from the abnormally cold autumn, but at the monument erected at my feet in honor of my late mother. I've never really been too keen on graveyards, but mom was big on the holidays, so I make a few exceptions year round. My eyes sweep over the words one last time.

**_Miranda Gilbert_**

_**Beloved mother and wife **_

_**1972-2010**_

I turn away, no longer interested in the dwelling nature of mourning; not when I have other people to visit here… People whose graves will bring better memories that my mother's does. I walk the calculated 20 strides down the gravel path and inward to headstones to the familiar name:

**_Mason Lockwood _**

_**Beloved son and brother**_

_**1989-2012**_

A smile ghosts across my lips for an instant, remembering the way he grunted as my knife plunged into his chest. He was certainly a good hunt, a good kill. The bastard had been raping his girlfriend. I move on. 3, 4, 5 more plots and sweet justices before I am finished here.

I sigh contentedly as I turn on my brown leather heels and make way for my car.

The obnoxious sound of someone clearing their throat stops me in my tracks, I turn, narrowing my golden eyes at the creature that produced the noise. He smirks at me like I am his prey, my lips twist into a smile and I pierce his big blue orbs with a practiced doe eyed innocence.

"Can I help you?" my voice is soft with a twinge of southern accent, I watch him watch me. He looks me up and down from my skin tight black leather pants, to my perfectly clashing cable knit beige sweater, to my taupe pea coat which, if I do say so myself, really ties the whole "classy-mourning-daughter" look together quite well. I can see the lust in his eyes and I hear in in his voice, completely devoid of emotion.

"No." his eyes are smiling now, he continues, "forgive me… You obviously came here to mourn, it's just I can't help it, you're so.."

"beautiful?" I cut him off, not wanting to listen to the rest of his fake-nervous rambling. His smirk grows into something more feral. I'll admit, he isn't terrible looking. There is a dusting of black shadow along his sculpted jaw and his matching black hair is swept across his forehead, not low enough to be a frat boy, but not high enough to be going to super-cuts.

"Yes, beautiful." He confirms. I purse my full rosebud lips at him and nod in acknowledgement, not approval. "So is this your boyfriend?" he asks motioning to the stone at my feet, nice, very tactful. I shake my head and offer no further explanation. This guy might be a creep, but he definitely doesn't fit my criteria, and I am bored with him.

I glide past him to make way for my car and he grips my arm a little too hard, "Wait.." he is in my personal space now, bad move buddy. "Would you like to have drinks sometime?" he asks the question as if he already knows the answer. Normally, I would say no to this ridiculous request, but I figure a guy with as little tact as to ask a girl out in a graveyard and invade her personal space won't be missed.

I smile at him brightly, "sure, I'm Elena."


	2. Handle your bourbon

I down my second bourbon and glance at my watch, _again. _The nerve of this guy. If it hadn't been so long since my last kill I would be gone by now.. My teeth are on edge and I can feel my heart pounding against my rib cage in anticipation. I gesture to the bartender and he promptly refills my cup, with a slight look of worry. I purse my lips at his naivety. I can handle my damn alcohol. The bartender scurried away from my narrowed gaze just in the nick of time for prince charming himself to finally show the hell up.

"Well, aren't you a vision." He looks me up and down like I'm a fresh strawberry ripe for the picking. I swing my legs over the edge of the stool and stand, my eyes level with his lips.

"You're late." I say bluntly, he'd better have an explanation. He crinkles his lips into a thin line, rookie. Thats a sure sign of a lie.

"I ran a little late at work." he runs is cool hands along my lower back atop the red satin of my dress. "Shall we sit?" he gestures towards the bar with his eyes. I retake my seat and watch him gracefully swing his jacket off his clearly muscular shoulders and drape it over the back of my chair. _Rude, _didn't his mother teach him ANY manners? He sits next to me and orders a bourbon, at least his taste in alcohol is intact.

He swishes his first sip along his tongue briefly before swallowing, "So Elena, tell me about yourself." I look up at his command, trying so hard not to laugh in the poor bastards face. Commanding me. I let out a small half-laugh.

"hmm." I smile in mock deep-thought, "I kill people for fun." I lick my lips and watch him, his laugh is animalistic, why is it so unbelievable? I laugh with him, going along with the joke.

"Okay I get it, you don't like to talk about yourself." he nods barely keeping the amusement out of his voice.. The anticipation is killing me. He nods and strokes his jaw, "okay, I'll guess."

I stay silent allowing him to formulate a story that would surely be way off base.

"Okay, so you're a sure-fire daddy's girl." Ha. Strike one.

"Definite know it all… Ivy league?" Strike two, trust fund brat, the only thing I work for is the hunt.

he considered his next words before saying them, narrowing his eyes at me in a weirdly sexy way.

"You like it rough." I smile.

"You have no idea." I lean into his smile and brush my lips over his, he responds greedily, but I cut off the kiss.. Not yet.

"Would you like to come home with me?" I whisper in his ear, he smirks like he's just taken candy from a baby and nods, gripping my elbow and leading me out of the bar.

Let the fun begin.


	3. Unwelcome Surprise

I begin leading him towards my Mercedes but he stops in his tracks motioning to a light blue Camaro five spots away,

"Let's take my car." My lips twist into a small smirk, _really_?

"Whats wrong? Afraid of my driving?" I ask half laughing, half offended.

"Of course not princess, I just prefer to be in control of the situation. Come on, I'll drive you to your car in the morning" he leans in to kiss my neck at the last sentence.. Well he's sure confident. After cringing at his pet name for me I smile.. Okay, I'll let him think he's in control.. For a little while.

"Okay." I agree shortly as we change direction and make way for his car. I have to admit, it _is_ a nice car. The leather seats are pristine and the detailing is impressive. I direct him to my house and within ten minutes we are pulling up the drive. I expect him to comment on how nice it is, like most of the others do, but he doesn't. He gets out and opens my door, extending a hand to help me out. I don't take it. He is following close behind me, hands ghosting over my hips. Normally I wouldn't sleep with a target, but something about him..

We are barely in the door before his lips attack mine, throwing me against the closest wall and pinning my hands above my head. He is a damn good kisser. I pull my wrists from his grasp to entangle them in his hair and he lifts my legs around his waist.

"Right" I mumble against his mouth when we reach the top of the stairs, he turns and my back slams against the door to my bedroom. My hands fumble with the handle behind my before we stumble in. We collapse on the bed in a frantic heap of half-on clothing. He kicks his shoes off and crawls on top of me hovering just inches above my lips, smirking. His hand entangles in my hair pulling slightly so I am forced to keep eye contact, my back arches off the bed enough for his free arm to reach around and unzip my dress.

I catch his lips as he slides it down my body, and I race to undo the buttons on his shirt. God, I need this. It slips off his body and I have to stop to admire him. Of course his body is just as beautiful as his face. Hard, flat, perfectly sculpted muscle. I feel him smirking above me as I greedily admire him. I flip us over and straddle his waist, leaving down to kiss him.

He cups my breast through my lacy bra then reaches around to unhook it.

"Beautiful" he mumbles so low I am almost unsure I heard it. He leans up to take one nipple in his mouth as he gently massages the other in his hand. He sucks hard and I cry out.

"Oh damon!" He responds by biting down, I jerk forward to relieve the pressure and he takes the vulnerable moment to flip us back over. He is on top of my now and I dont even care. His beautiful lips moves to the other breast as his trading off with one hand as his other slowly glides down my body.. He rips my black lace thong in two and plunges a finger into me. I arch into his talented mouth and my hands fly to his hair. He works his fingers inside of me before adding a second.

"So fucking wet." He whispers against my clavicle before gently biting down, then planting soft butterfly kisses to sooth the sting. I reach down to undo his belt buckle, not wanting to wait any longer. He slides is pants and boxers from his body effortlessly with one hand, the other never leaving my core, and positions himself at my entrance, reaching up my one hand to pin my arms above my head. He thrusts into my so hard I think my hips have come unhinged. I arch into his body and call out his name. He growls into my neck and continues plunging into me harshly. My nails rip into the skin of his back and he growls reaching up to slap me, I pull his hair in response and he rests his hand on my throat, not squeezing, just as a threat. I am so close now. I wrap my legs around his hips and lean up as far as his threatening grasp on my throat permits to catch his lips. Our kiss is deep and feral, our tongues wrestle for dominance until I submit to his demanding nature, biting down on his bottom lip. He hand squeezes the air from my throat in response and I climax immediately. My hands harshly pull his hair as I cry out.

"Oh god Damon!" He growls and harshly thrusts into me one last time, climaxing with me.

We collapse together, both panting and spent, in a tangle mess. Within minutes he is fast asleep. I climb out of bed and make way for the basement. I check to make sure that everything is exactly how I left it before grabbing a small syringe and heading back upstairs. Damon groggily looks up at me as I climb back in bed I smile at him as I plunge the needle into his neck, emptying the sedative into his bloodstream. His eyes go wide,

"What the hell" Before he is out cold. I smirk... Yes he was a good choice. I grip his ankles and pull his body from the bed, he crashes to the ground will a harsh thud.

After what seemed like forever I have finally dragged him all the way down to the basement.. He's definitely going to have a headache when he wakes up. I lift him limb by limb onto my table and begin to wrap to restraining tape around his chest, hands, and legs. Now, I just have to sit and wait for him to awaken.

20 minutes go by before I hear a small groan.

"What the fuck Elena. If you're into kink all you had to do was ask... and you should know I usually play the master." He sounds vaguely annoyed but not at all as alarmed as he should be. I smirk at him and laughed darkly.

"Oh baby... That's not what this is." I explain, pulling my favorite knife out from hiding behind my back. He visibly squirms, but doesn't say a word.

"Don't take it personally, It's just a hobby of mine..." I run the knife edge along his shadowed jaw, "it's almost a pity... you were _such_ a good fuck.." I lean down to kiss his lips and he bites me. I slap him so hard his head is whipped to the side.

"Oh well." I shrug before plunging the knife into his chest. He grunts for a moment before going completely still. I sigh. That was a good one. I am too tired now to deal with the body so I decide to leave it for tomorrow. I climb the stairs and collapse into my bed, which still smells like sex.

* * *

The sunlight streaming in through my window wakes me up, I sigh contentedly and attempt to roll over.

What the fuck? My eyes shoot open and fly to the restraints at each corner of the bed keeping me sprawled out spread-eagle and naked.

"Good morning princess." I scream at the all too familiar voice. He is standing next to the bed with no knife wound to be seen. I freeze. How is this possible? He pulls my knife from its hiding spot behind his back and admires it before looking down at me.

"we are going to have so much fun together." He flashes me a 100 wat smile and I see them. How is this possible? I must be going crazy.

Damon Salvatore has fangs.


	4. Fetish

"How are you alive?" she breathes horrified, her wide eyes looking more terrified than doe eyed now. I smirk at her... Silly girl. Doesn't she know silver doesn't hurt vampires? Well, doesn't kill. That hurt like a bitch. I stare down at her quivering little body pursing my lips. What to do, what to do.

Her heartbeat is so loud and frantic I can't fucking think.

"Stop doing that and calm the hell down." I snap, irrationally annoyed. She did stab me, so I guess it's fair.

"Doing what? I'm tied to the god damn bed!" She yells back. She has some fucking balls to be yelling at an angry vampire who has her tied up.

I growl lowly, exhaling the urge to rip her fucking throat out, before speaking.

"So, princess. Fun little hobby you got there, huh?" I flash her a tight lipped smile. She looks slightly annoyed.

"I said don't take it personally." Her voice is curt. I sigh.

"Yeah well a knife to the chest feels pretty fucking personal to me sweetheart." I casually run the knife along the top of her thigh. She cries out, then gasps at the sight of my face; no longer gorgeous. Black veins bleeding from my red eyes down my cheeks, fangs bared: my throat burns at the smell of her blood: sweet, unlike her.

Her eyes bore into me, angry; if I wasn't so pissed the crinkle between her eyebrows might even be cute. I move the knife up to her porcelain cheek.

She inhales raggedly eyeing the knife, then me. I press down with not even a ounce of my strength until a small dot of blood appears. I feel a smirk spread across my lips.

"Okay." I say, placing the knife on the side table, "I'm bored with this... There are better ways for me to torture you" I whisper, leaning into her throat. He heartbeat is becoming faster and faster. I lick and kiss at her skin, letting my fangs brush across her throat. She squirms beneath the threat of being bitten.

"stop.." Her voice is barely a whisper, "Stop.." growing louder... "Stop! now! stop!" there she goes: yelling, struggling, begging. I love when they beg. I bet she does too. The thought of this dominant girl, this murderer, submitting to me makes my cock twitch. I climb off of her naked body just long enough to remove my jeans, then climb back onto her. Her chest heaves beneath me.. I am sure she knows what I intend to do.

"Untie my legs." she demands.

"I'm perfectly fine like this actually." I eye her. I can't tell if she's has extremely large balls or an extremely tiny brain.

"I said untie my legs." she bites out through her teeth. I oblige, ripping the ropes with a twitch of my fingers. She immediately wraps them around my hips, pulling me down to her. I look down at her, unsure what to say.. Torture fetish? Somehow I don't think I'll have a hard time adjusting to that. I plunge into her immediately. She's even wetter than she was last time. I grip the backs of her knees, pulling them forward, plunging deeper into her. She cries out, pulling against her restraints unsuccessfully. I am on the verge of vampire speed and I wonder if her little body can take it.. Wait.. Do I care?

Her jaw drops as I speed up, using inhuman strength. Trying so hard to break her little body. I don't try to hold off, I come within a matter of minutes: she killed me, she doesn't get pleasure. I rip into her little throat and she cries out , kicking and struggling beneath me... Useless.. She tastes fucking amazing. I gasp, coming up for air. She is barely conscious.

"No no kitten, I'm not done with you yet." I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood and lean down, kissing her deeply. After a few moments the blood begins to do it's job and she becomes slightly conscious, turning away from my kiss. It's okay, there's going to be plenty of time for me to kiss her.

"I think i'm going to keep you."


	5. interrogation

My throat is dry and my limbs feel like jelly. I stopped yelling for him after what felt like hours. At this point, I think my body may hurt even more than my pride does. My dad was crazy about vampires, but I always thought he was just that: crazy. A creak from the hallway pulls my attention.

He is standing in the doorway leaning casually, arms crossed, smirk plastered on his porcelain face.

"How you feeling princess?" I can't even respond, my mouth feels like a desert. I muster a glare at him, but from his returned laugh I can only assume it was pathetic. He blurs. When I can see him clearly again he is standing right next to the bed. My eyes are level with the zipper in his jeans. He is holding a glass of water.

I arch and stretch my limbs in a feeble attempt to get to the full glass that he is holding just a few feet above my dry lips. He narrows his amused eyes down at me, pressing his full lips into a tight line.

"I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. I was expecting a little more fight from you." I feel my brow furrow in anger, but I do not reply.

He brings the glass to my lips and lets just a few small drops of delicious water trickle onto my tongue before cruelly pulling it just out of reach, I groan in frustration. The corner of his lips pull into a smirk.

"We are going to play a little game. I am going to ask you some questions. You are going to answer. Truthfully. If I believe you, and I am satisfied with your answer, you will get water." I blink up at him.

"Okay." My voice sounds foreign and raspy. He nods to himself, satisfied. He unties my feet and hands and I immediately curl into a ball, too weak to even try to run. He sits and pulls me into his lap, hands still clasped loosely around the glass of water.

"Let's begin, shall we?" He absentmindedly strokes my hair. "How long have you been indulging in your little hobby?"

"Five years."

"How many people have you killed?" I struggle a sigh. I should feel remorse. I just don't.

"46." He stills beneath me. I'm sure he's surprised.

"Impressive." His voice goes up an octave, he is genuinely impressed.

"Who was your first kill?" This time I am silent.

"Elena answer the question." His voice is curt and demanding. I stay silent. Suddenly he shifts, looking me in the eye.

"Who was your first kill?"

The words are flying from my lips before I know what's happening. My body betraying my mind.

"My father." My cheeks flood with heat. I've never said it outloud before. He bites his lip, unsure of how to react. Finally he moves, setting the glass on the bedside table and walking calmly out of the room, shutting the door behind him. I grab the glass and greedily drink it's contents before making my way to the bathroom for more.

* * *

I am vaguely aware of someone carrying me. I open my eyes. Damon in carrying me to the bed. I must have fallen asleep on the bathroom floor. A delicious scent hits my nose and I immediately notice a tray of food next to the bed.

"Yes, it's for you." Damon laughs.

He lays me down under the blankets and sets the tray carefully of my lap. There is some type of ravioli on the plate, along with a side of mixed vegetables and a full glass of milk. I attack the tray. I can feel him laughing beside me but I don't care. I like to eat. Screw him.

When my plate is clear and my glass is empty he puts the tray back on the table. I lean back against the my headboard, sated. Wait.. _My _headboard. Why the hell is he still in my house?

I look at him sideways, brows furrowed, lips pursed, in my normal dismissive way.

"Why are you still here?" He looks at me like i've grown three heads and turned purple, before switching to smug sarcasm.

"I believe that is because you so disrespectfully left my body in the basement."

"I was planning on cutting you up and throwing you away in the morning." My voice is blunt and monotone and I have apparently once again grown thee heads and turned purple. His muscular chest swells with his sighs and he blinks at me.

"You know princess, I think you just might have more issues than i do ... And that's not a compliment." I look at him disapprovingly.

"Seriously. i'm bored of you. Get out." This is not a request. His eyebrows launch into his hair and he laughs at me.

"Did you think I was joking when I said I was going to keep you?" I don't even remember him saying that.. He continues. "I wasn't. Ideally you would be my prisoner in my home, but I like it here, so we can stay for a little while."

I can't help it, I laugh in his smug face.

"You're joking right? This isn't civil war era asshole. People don't keep slaves. Get the fuck out of my house." His smile fades.

"Actually, I was turned in the civil era. And I'm not 'people' I'ma vampire." He makes a point of flashing his fangs at me. "and I'm keeping you whether you like it or not."


	6. Power Struggle

Damon and I stare at eachother for what seems like hours in a silent power struggle. This is my damn house, and I belong to _nobody. _Not anymore. He is doing his annoying eye thing and I can't help but narrow my eyes at him.

"Fuck you. I belong to nobody." I throw the bankets off and climb out of bed, making way for the cellar. His eyes follow me but he says nothing, his smirk never fading. I can hear him climb out of bed and walk a little ways behind me.

"Where are you going?" he finally questions when I make it to the basement door, I don't stop walking. He laughs, "Your kill room?"

"aww, have I made little princess angry?" His mocking voice sets me off, I grab the first knife in sight twisting and cutting a line straight across his porcelain cheek. A low growl resounds from deep in his chest. His eyes grow wide and he grabs for my wrist, squeezing so hard I drop the knife. He doesn't let go.

I whimper at the small cracks of my bones under his hand.

"Damon." is the only word I can muster. He pushed me back against my kill table and I take a moment to look down and my now black and blue wrist. He stalks towards me, the veins in his eyes becoming more and more prominent.

"That's it. I'm done here." his voice is tense with anger. I sigh. So he's finally leaving?

My false hope is short lived, his hand shoots up, entangling in my hair. Our surroundings blue and we are suddenly im my room, My stomach churns, threatening to empty it's contents. I am thrown on the floor.

I watch damon grab a suitcase from under my bed, unzipping it. Oh god. He's taking me with him. He rips open my drawers siffling through my clothing, throwing only the skimpiest dresses in the suitcase. He makes it to my lingerie drawer, smirking, throwing all the contents into the suitcase. Satisfied, he zips it up and reaches for me. I crawl backwards away from his grip. But he has a vampiric advantage over me. He rushes, gripping my arm and pulling me down the stairs.

"Damon stop!" I demand, he doesnt respond. His face remains stony and unresponsive.

He opens the trunk of his camaro and throws me in.

"No no no-" he slams the door shut.


	7. Prisoner

When I finally see the sunlight again, it is blinding. My muscles ache from being curled up in the trunk of his car, and my wrist is on fire still from his previous attack. I am disoriented, but I can feel strong arms wrap themselves around my body, lifting me from my vehicular prison. When my eyes finally focus, I gasp.

The house in front of me is magnificent. Even better than my own. It has ivory walls, brown trim, and red brick accents. I fall in love with it immediately. I make a mental note to buy it after the vampire is dead. Perhaps i'll leave him bloody in the foyer, a nasty crime scene would surely knock the asking price down. The vastness of the house only grows as we approach it, his deft hands open the door with ease, never coming close to dropping me. Of course it is unlocked, it'd probably be a treat for him to find an intruder in his home, I know it is an experience I would surely enjoy.

The grandeur of the outside is nothing compared to the inner decor. Tall ceilings, with windows stretching the height of some walls, whilst what I assume are priceless and rare pieces of art litter the others. The furniture is ornate and decadent. There is a Persian rug beneath his feet as we walk further into the lavish home. I take mental inventory of all the belongings I would keep, versus auction off, after I killed the vampire, as he carries me to an unknown destination. Through the kitchen, which feature unparalled granite countertops, and into a door. The scenery is slightly less comfortable. The walls are dank with basement moisture, and grey with age. We descend the stairs, I am still woozy from his attack, so all I can do is think my insults at him. A large wrought iron door invades my vision. A cell, he has a literal dungeon? I have _got _to buy this place. The inside of the small cell is much like the outside, with the exception of a lumpy cot against one wall, he lays me on it, then leisurely walks out. I catch a glimpse of his hundred watt smile through the bars in the door as he locks it, then hear the shuffling of his feet up the steps.

* * *

Firstly, HUGE apologies! I recognize I haven't updated in an unacceptably long time, and that this chapter is unbearably short, but I'm back at it, I promise, and there is MUCH more to come.


	8. Pick your battles

**Hey guys! I know it's been awhile since I've updated but I'm going to try to start doing so more regularly. Hope you enjoy! Please review!**

I expected to be stuck in my dreary prison for days, subjected to slow and torturous anticipation as to when my captor would finally come finish me off. But that was not the case. Clearly Damon wasn't as good at kidnap as I was. It was merely a few hours before he came back for me, silent and stony, but I could feel the magnetic excitement radiating from his body, permeating me to my bones.

He gripped my arm tight and led me up the stairs, walking brusquely through the house. As expected he ignored the insults I spewed at him. We finally came to a halt on the second floor of the magnificent house. The door in front of me was large and darkwood, and full of sinister promises. Just as I expected, he opened it to reveal a bedroom. That wasn't really the right word, though. This was too incredibly to simply be called a room. The far wall was entirely stained class, with magnificent thick curtains on either side. There was art and bookshelves scattered randomly around the other three walls, but the most catching thing was the bed. Large, decorated with stark white linens, fluffy and inviting. It had four thick dark wooden posts, ornately carved. Elegant, but not stuffy. He watched me survey my surroundings. Excitement in his eye. Waiting for something… For what? I took a few simply steps forward, aware that he had allowed them. That's when I saw it. This fucker _must _be crazy.

A medium sized caged next to the bed on the far side. It was big enough to comfortable lay down in, but too small to do much else. Vampire or not there's no chance in hell he's getting me in there. My heart jumped when I felt a strong hand rest on my lower back, his body now perpendicular to my own. He reached a hand up, brushing my chin and forcing my head to turn and acknowledge him. My eyes remained stony. I refused to show any weakness. I gave him a smug raise of my eyebrows and responded to his unspoken request.

"Over my dead body." My tone was even and concise, to show that I mean business. He pursed his perfect lips at me, eyebrows raised in dismissal, and assured me that could be arranged. I didn't budge. This power struggle thing was becoming rather annoying. It is nearly nighttime again and I know this fight is headed for climax real soon, I consider picking my battles, after all he _is _a vampire. But I just can't do it. My pride forbade me from taking another step. I stood my ground waiting for his next move.

He smirks. Delighted at my refusal – this is what he was hoping for. He wanted a fight. Before I can register that he's even moved I am on the ground, clutching my cheek. He backhanded me! The bastard actually struck me. _Bad _move Dracula. I quickly side sweep his legs with my own and he crashes to the ground next to me with a huff. I know the only reason it worked is because he wasn't expecting me to fight back, lets face it: I'm good, but I'm not supernatural good. I quickly bound up to run out of the room but before I cant make it the door slams shut in front of me. I am trapped. My back is to him but I can feel his breath on my neck indicating how dangerously close he is.

I can't help but feel turned on remember the feel of his hands on me. I don't turn to face him, something he clearly doesn't like as he roughly grabs my hip and flips me, slamming me harshly into the door. His eyes are all-consuming. Alive with threatening anticipation. He leans impossibly close to me, I try to move back but all I could do was shrink myself as far as physics would allow. He is so close I could feel his lips brush mine as he speaks.

"You're mine now Elena." His voice is even but I could feel like excitement breaking through his composure, "you will do as you're told or I'll beat you so brutal you'll regret the day you decided to make me your mark." The sentence was full of dark promise. I believe him. I nod slightly, unwillingly. I brush past him slowly, and make my way to the cage. I could barely feel the hurt to my pride through his tangible smugness. It was so thick in the air I felt I could cut through it if he gave me back my favorite knife. His chest heaved in excitement as I climbed into my new prison. I could see him growing hard through his jeans as he locked the door behind me.

"You're in for a rough night."


	9. Euphoria

I register the sound of the bedroom door closing, Damon must have walked in. I don't even open my eyes to acknowledge him, he doesn't deserve the satisfaction. The foreboding thud of his feet against the ground grows louder as he closes in on me, but I tune it out. I know he must be right at the cage, because the sound has ceased. Even like this with my eyes shut and my body curled into itself I could feel his eyes burning into me, scalding my skin on contact.

_No. Not his eyes. _Something was burning my skin. My eyes open slowly, annoyed. I ignore the pain, I've felt worse. I finally look up at him. Candle wax. He is standing over the cage with a blood red long stem candle. It was tilted almost absentmindedly, but his eyes weren't on the candle. They were on the skin of my outer thigh, the one which was now spatter with red dots. The veins under his eyes began to darken slowly, showing what he truly is. I felt a twinge of fear, but I made sure to keep my expression neutral. We made eye contact. _Can I help you?_ I question him in the most condescending tone I can muster. His mouth breaks into a wide toothy grin, and his fangs are obvious and terrifying.

"Actually Kitten, you can." His voice came out in a deep purr, slightly effected by the protruding sharp teeth. I feel the anxiety boil in my chest when I realize what he means. He's hungry.

"Be a good girl and come give me what I want." _Or else, _he implies as he reaches the latch on the cage and bends down in front of the now gaping door. His hand is extending to me and his legs are wide. I deliberate. He's a vampire, so rationally I'm aware he is capable of hurting me, but I don't want to submit to him. He must see this on my face because his hand darts out lightning fast to grip my upper arm and pull me out of the cage. His balance doesn't even falter with the sudden jerk, I am in between his legs now. He releases my arm so that he can tangle his hands in my hair, I don't move an inch. He runs his nose along my jaw, baiting me. Baiting himself. His hands glide down me, one to the back of my neck, manipulating my position to give him unhindered access, and the other to wrap around the back of my shoulders, holding me firmly in place. Even if I struggled, it would be futile. I am statue still, waiting. I feel my jaw clench in anger. He smiles against my neck in acknowledgement before he sinks his fangs into the tender part of my neck, just a few inches below my ear. I wince at the initial sting, but in an instant it's gone. Replaced by something else, something warmer – it overwhelms me, emanating from the two pinholes at my neck. This feeling, it's pure power. Euphoric. I recognize it – it's the same feeling I get in my chest when I plunge my knife into someone. A small moan escapes my lips and he pulls me closer, taking the invitation. I go slack in him arms, letting my eyes drift shut, giving in to him.

I could get used to this.


	10. Drag me down to hell

When I come to I am no longer on the floor, but instead in his arms on the bed. I search my mind for any memories of how I got here, but I come up blank. The silky sheets feel like heaven against my curiously bare skin – when did he undress me? I lean up on my elbows to take in the rest of the room, or rather, I _try _to. The slight movement stirs Damon from his slumber and his hand is immediately tangled in my hair harshly pulling me back down to the bed. I can't help the initial gasp from my surprise, my eyes crunch shut from the pain of my now-awkward position beneath him, but I can feel how close he is. His voice is firm and commanding when he asks me just where the hell did I think I was going, I open my mouth to whip a retort at him, but the only thing that comes out is a strained and breathy "ouch." He loosens his grip enough from me to relax the arch of my back and look at him, but I could still feel the threat. I've never been the submissive one in bed, it didn't exactly go with my nature. I can't differentiate between dominant Damon and kidnapper Damon, but my pride tells me that physical contact that wont end in an orgasm is woefully unnecessary, therefore cuddling in bed with him is really not on my agenda. I tell him just that.

I expect a retort or even a slap, but he just wrinkles is eyebrows at me, I can see the edge of a condescending smile on his lips. "Someone really fucked you up, huh? Daddy issues?" Before the words leave his mouth I move, thrusting my boney knee into the family jewels – the sound he makes in response is not pretty. I quickly scramble from the bed and make way for a much needed shower. Supernatural or not, a blow like that will leave him in agony for at least a minute. I lock the door to his pristine bathroom behind me, I know it's useless, but it will at least annoy him. I consider a bath, but Damon would probably just drown me in it. A shower will have to do. I settle while turning the stainless steel handle all the way towards the hot side. The room instantly feels steamy.

"Elena." His voice is icy and teeming with barely-holding restraint. He takes a deep breath, "If I have to kick down this door, I swear to God you won't sit right for a week." I mull that over. A spanking could prove to be hot, but a vampirically enhanced spanking? I wince at the thought.

"I'll only open it if you promise to be gentle." I feign a shakiness in my voice. Let him think he's broken me, it'll only make it that much sweeter when I take his life. He pauses behind the mahogany guard and I take the moment to cover myself with a towel. Time to put on a show.

"Okay." His voice is pure velvet. He sounds almost remorseful. Almost. I grip the top of the towel with one hand, take a deep breath for the benefit of his hyper-hearing, and turn the lock. I jump back a step as the door opens, slowly. He peaks his head in, eyes neutral. I wonder if he knows that I know it's an act? He steps in slowly and with each shuffle of his feet I back further and further away watching him like a deer in headlights. My lips pout as I clench my jaw in mock nervousness – I see that alight something in his eyes. He gets off on my fear, just like I get off on the thrill of wondering when his flip will switch, and he'll turn evil again. He shuts the door behind him and I hear the faint click of the lock. I am trapped, naked, with the devil himself.

I inhale, letting my eyes slightly widen at his steps towards me, then sharply turn them downward. I wait for his feet to enter my line of sight before I talk, I know he's close enough to strike.

"I'm sorry" I mumble, in the most pathetic voice I could muster, I hold ever muscle in my body taught feigning anxiety. His hands reach up to each side of my face, gentle and firm. He lifts my head until I am looking up at him. His face is contorted into something I couldn't quite place, curiosity? He leans in. I pull my chin back ever so slightly, thinking he was about to kiss me, but he doesn't. Instead his head swoops to the side, kissing my neck softly. His hands move to my hair, gently pulling to give himself better access to my neck. His lips move from just under my jaw to that sweet spot still adorning two neat puncture holes. I jerk in his arms as his fangs sink into me once more. He tightens his grip. It's not harsh though, it's reassuring, a silent promise that he wasn't going to drain me. The feeling is incredible. I over exaggerate my reaction for the show. My fingers dig into the skin of his waist and my mouth opens to that perfect "O." I let out a small moan and our close proximity allows me to feel just how much he was enjoying the innocent act. He disconnected his mouth from my neck ever so slightly and I whimper at the loss. My eyelids are heavy but I am lucid enough to give him a look of gratitude. He smirks, bringing his inner wrist to his mouth. Two streams of blood run down it as he bites down I furrow my brows, what is he doing? I try to shake my head and protest when I finally realize, but it's no use.

The blood tastes salty of my tongue as he forces his wrist into my mouth, holding my head firm with the other hand. Once I am secured he resumes his position at my throat drinking from me. I sputter on the liquid resisting for a moment until it becomes too much. I swallow it. The moment I do something changes. The edges of our bodies against eachother blur. I can feel him, not his skin, _him. _His mind. At the edge of mine, a warm glow overwhelming and euphoric. I drink greedily. With each mouthful I feel his power pulsing more and more through my veins. I want to hold onto this feeling forever.

Without warning he rips his wrist from my teeth. I look up at him, eyes wide and brimming, blood running down my chin. He goes still at the sight. Drinking me in – metaphorically this time. I ask him what that was but he does not answer, instead he grabs me roughly and pulls me into a feverish kiss. His hands are all over me, frantic; not the calm collected version of him I've grown accustomed to. He walks me back until we are in the steam of the shower being pelted by the droplets. They drive into my skin like knives but I barely feel it. His hand wraps around my throat, thumb strategically placed on my windpipe. He pulls back to watch himself choke me. At first I think it is a sensual move, just foreplay, but he does not stop. My nails dig into his hand and I try to choke out a plea to stop, but nothing happens. My vision is going spotty. I faintly hear his voice.

"Don't worry Elena, you're going to love vampirism."


End file.
